Awake. It was a glorious, massive, shattering word.
When the doctor said it, her relief was so big and profound she couldn’t even really feel it properly. He would recover. He was awake. He was alive.
He’d had a severe heart attack and the first surgery had apparently kicked something loose that had caused a minor stroke, but thanks to the attentions of the doctors in the ICU, they’d caught it almost instantly and thought there would be only minimal effects. He would be fine. He was awake.
They cried and laughed and hugged and held one another, rocking back and forth with pure happiness, and for a flicker of a moment she missed Craig, wished he was there to fling herself against—but then it was time to see him. Her father.
Awake.
Everything was a rush from there. The hours blurred into a frenzy of activity and euphoria after all the waiting and fear. Twenty-four hours of drawing back a sling-shot with slow, agonizing tension stretching her every inch of the way had released and she was flying, catapulting through life.
After she saw her father, saw him gruff and irritated with all the attention, she went home and showered. Then it was over to her parents’ house with Laurie to clean out the fridge and completely restock it with heart-healthy alternatives.
No more salami. It would be all turkey-bacon from here on out.
She kept busy, back and forth from the hospital a dozen times, leaping to do every little task that might need doing—all the while ignoring Miranda’s calls and her very patient and understanding voicemails which all ultimately asked the same question.
When?
When would Marcy be ready to restart the show? It didn’t have to be soon, they understood that her family needed her, but if she could just tell the crew how long they would be on hiatus…
But Marcy didn’t want to go back to the show that had worried her father into a heart attack. Not now, not ever. She didn’t want to re-enter that reality where nothing was real and she definitely didn’t want to leave her family.
She missed Craig and even sort of missed Daniel, but she wasn’t ready to go back—and she didn’t know when, because she wasn’t sure she ever would be.
She entered her father’s hospital room on Thursday to find him sitting up, his skin tone back to a healthy shade and his big booming laugh filling the room. When he saw her in the doorway, his grin broadened and he waved her forward. “Marcy! Just the daughter I’ve been hoping to see.”
“Oh? You’re in a good mood,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too surprised—he was rubbish as a patient, always insisting he was fine, damn it—so this cheerfulness was particularly unexpected.
“They’ve told me I can be released back into the wild on Saturday,” he bragged. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Sit.”
As Marcy pulled a chair next to his bed, her mother rose from the one on the opposite side. “I’ve got some calls to return. I’ll leave you two alone.”
Marcy took her father’s hand as the door snicked quickly shut behind her mother. He wasn’t big on displays of emotion—she probably hadn’t held his hand since she was a child, but he let her now.
“When do you go back to California?”
Marcy shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going back on the show.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Dad…”
“Your mother thought you were leery of going back but I told her she had you wrong. Not my Marcy. She’s too smart for that.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be the smart one this time. Besides, what’s so wrong with staying here with you?”
“Nothing. As long as you’re not letting fear stop you. That’s not who you are.”
There it was again. Not who you are. That compliment that was also pressure to be more, to be better. She studied their linked hands, his much larger and age-spotted, hers with nails bitten down to the quick from the stress of the last week.
“Marcy.” He squeezed her hand until she looked up and met his eyes. “Don’t stop being who you are because I had a little heart flutter.”
“It was more than a flutter.”
“Whatever it was. You’re my clever daughter. My brave one. And I’m so proud of you.”
“I sit at home writing stories. Hardly brave.”
“You go after your dreams when other people are caught up in dreaming about them. I liked you home writing stories where you were safe, but I always knew you would leave someday. Murphysboro was never going to be a big enough adventure for you.”
“I’m not planning to move. Even if I went back to the show, I’d come back here when we wrap filming. Murphysboro will always be my home.”
“You need to go out and find the life you want rather than staying safe here forever. And when you find it, grab on with both hands.” He grimaced. “Even if it’s in San Diego.”
She had been studying their linked hands, but that brought her head up with a snap. “I thought you hated Craig.”
Her father shrugged. “I still think Daniel is a better choice, but your mother is talking me around. Some. Though I still worry he’ll hurt you.”
Anxiety jumped in her chest. “Don’t worry—”
“I’m always going to worry about you, kiddo. It’s my job. But don’t you dare play it safe just to keep me from fretting. Being with someone you don’t care for just because they can’t hurt you isn’t a life, Marcy.”
“I care for Daniel.” In a way. She could grow to love him. He was so much like her father, how could she not?
“It’s your choice. You know what I think, but whoever you choose, we support you.” The words were gruff and grudging and her heart clenched hard.
“I love you, Daddy.”
His cheeks flushed above his beard. “Yeah, well, I think you’re pretty great too. Now when are you going back to show biz?”
“I want to stay here while you’re recovering.”
“I’ll keep you a few more days. I’m selfish enough to want that. But not too long. Your adventure is waiting.”